Festival Night
by Watercolor-Dragon
Summary: Watari visits earth during the Obon and runs into a little trouble.
1. Chapter 1

Well, I am back after a long haitus! This is the story I had published in the 2004 Yaoi-con anthology. I hope you like it!

Festival Night

by: Watercolor Dragon

Fandom: Yami no Matsuei

Pairing Watari x Tatsumi

Warning: This will contain smut in later chapters! All characters property of Matsushita Youko, I just borrow them!

Tatsumi Seiichirou, the Shokan Division's second in command, walked slowly down the empty hallway. Aided by his shadows, he closed doors and windows, readying the building for the holiday weekend. With a small frown, he gradually made his way toward the light at the end of the corridor.

_I though I made it perfectly clear that when he left his lab he should turn off the lights. Honestly! Perhaps if the electric bill came out of his budget, he would get it through his head._

Another thought worked its way into his brain, and he felt a thrill of anticipation replace the earlier annoyance. Tatsumi quickened his pace, a smile now tugging at the corners of his mouth

_I suppose he could be working late. He has been putting in long hours these past few weeks. _

Tatsumi tapped lightly on the door before pushing it open and stepping through. The willowy, blond man by the window gave no indication that he had heard, and Tatsumi cleared his throat to draw his attention.

"Watari-san, are you still working? Everyone else has gone home."

He glanced around the room as he spoke, looking for signs that the scientist was planning a late night. There were books scattered over the desk and the computer screen was flickering, but it didn't look as though any experiments were in progress. Watari turned from the window to stare at him blankly.

"Hmmm? Oh, Tatsumi, I didn't hear you come in. What were you saying?"

The younger shinigami moved languidly away from the window and sat down at the computer. He started to type, but appeared to lose interest after a moment, his hands dropping to his lap. Concerned, Tatsumi sat next to him and twisted the computer chair so that they were face to face.

"What is the matter Watari-san? You seem distracted. Are you feeling well?"

"It's the O-bon festival this weekend, Tatsumi."

"I see. Are you going again this year?"

"I have to. Maybe someone will come. I could…"

He left the thought unfinished and dropped his head into his hands, long hair forming a curtain in front of his face. Tatsumi reached to place one hand on the bowed head.

"If someone calls you, you could regain a few of your memories, I know; you've done this in the past. Do you want to put yourself through it again this year? It's very risky for you to be on earth during the festival. Shinigami are especially vulnerable during the O-bon. The spirits of the dead sometimes do not think kindly of those who bring them to judgement."

"I _have_ to go. I need to remember something of who I was. It will be years before Enma gives my memories back to me. I can't wait that long." Watari stood and stalked back to the window, his lab coat clutched defensively around him.

_What should I do? I can't tell him I want him here, safe, with me. I can't let him keep hurting either. If going will ease his mind…_

"Watari-san, you know it is against regulations for Shinigami not involved in investigations to be on earth this weekend."

"But Tatsumi…" Watari's golden eyes stared pleadingly at his partner, pain evident in their depths.

The shadow master held up one manicured hand to stop the protest. "However, as of five p.m. today, no one was in the office to check if all personnel made their way home. Any unauthorized visits to earth, should they be discovered, would not be dealt with until Monday morning. Good evening, Watari-san. I trust you will have a careful weekend and carry your cell phone with you in the event you should be needed."

"Yes, of course." Watari's mood visibly lightened. "And Tatsumi…"

Tatsumi paused, a hand on the door, and turned his head, pleased to see a smile on his friend's face.

"Thank you."

"For what Watari-san?"

He closed the lab door quietly and chuckled. A voice from the dark hallway caused him to jump.

"Are you at least going to follow him?"

"Tsuzuki-san, how long have you been here?"

"Long enough. Answer the question."

"Yes, in a manner of speaking. I find shadows very efficient trackers."

The two men fell into step as they moved away from the bustling sounds coming from the lab.

"Good. I don't want him to be alone."

"Nor do I. What are you doing here? Not working late."

"Ha ha. No, Hisoka left a book in the office. I offered to get it for him, and I wanted to check on Watari, too. Why are you still here?"

"Working and checking on Watari-san, though I had hoped he would give up his quest this year."

"Tatsumi, are you ever going to tell him?"

He stopped short, shock radiating from his body in waves, a blush coloring his cheeks. The violet-eyed man next to him stood waiting expectantly for an answer, a sly smile creeping across his features.

"Tell him what exactly?"

"Fine. Play dumb. But seriously, with our job, even tomorrow might be too late. Have a good weekend."

Tatsumi watched his former partner until the man vanished around a corner. Then he turned and slowly made his way back to his office. He paused briefly, lifting a finger and a small shadow leapt from the wall to hover in front of him. A silent command and the shade hurried off in the direction of the lab.

_That should take care of it. Anything out of the ordinary and I'll know immediately._


	2. Chapter 2

Here's the next installment! Thanks for all the nice comments!

* * *

Watari didn't notice the shadow creeping under the door and mingling with the others below the window. He was deep in preparation for his trip to his district on earth. He found it ironic that Juocho had placed him in charge of the area in which he had died, but because of this, he hadn't thought to check the death records until a few years ago.

He pulled out his summer yukata and packed a few things into a battered knapsack, wanting to have something to occupy the time he would spend waiting by his grave. The spirits of the dead could be called back by their relatives during O-bon. Watari was hoping that someone still living would want to remember him, and he planned to be available should that happen. With a last glance around the lab, he teleported to earth, not noticing the dark, wispy passenger he carried.

It was late summer and a balmy breeze ruffled his long hair. He resisted the urge to use his corporeal form, just in case there was someone who knew him in the crowds of people enjoying the festival. Paper lanterns were lit inside many of the houses and he could see the beginnings of a fireworks display. He made his way to the small graveyard where his remains had been laid to rest by someone he could not recall, and sat with his back leaning against the headstone, watching the people come to call their ancestors' spirits back home.

_This year will be the last. I'll just have to wait patiently for my memories. Enma promised to give them back when the five generals didn't need my brain any longer. How long could they want my brain?_

It occurred to him that he didn't know how long the five generals had been in Enmacho. It could be hundreds of years before he was allowed to move on and regain the memories of his life. He shivered and pulled his summer kimono tighter around his body at the thought.

People came and went, bringing food and flowers to leave on the graves, taking time to clear away leaves and debris that had accumulated. He watched one man directing two small boys and smiled as he imagined Tatsumi giving orders in just the same stern but gentle way.

_I will have to think of some way to thank him. He hates breaking the rules almost as much as he hates an unbalanced budget._

Thinking about the kagetsukai always brought a smile to his face. Even when Tatsumi was at his most disagreeable, he couldn't seem to dislike him. He secretly envied his composure and wished he could adopt his quiet dignity occasionally. Lately, he found himself drawn to his calm demeanor, which was such a contrast to his own frantic activity. These thoughts often took turns to more erotic musings, and a few times he had to stop himself from making suggestive comments to the reserved shinigami.

_Poor Tatsumi, I wonder if he has any idea he's a key player in some of my naughty daydreams._

Even the thought of propositioning him was enough to make Watari giggle. He was so caught up in this train of thought he failed to notice the man walking slowly but deliberately toward him, until they were barely a foot apart.

Watari held his breath a moment, but since the man couldn't see him he let it out in a rush. At least he believed he was still invisible, but the man's eyes never left his face. He became uncomfortable with the scrutiny and stood up, self-consciously adjusting his yukata and brushing stray hairs away from his face. He smiled hopefully as the man began to speak.

"I didn't expect a shinigami."

The voice was deep and well educated. It was difficult to judge the age of the speaker. His face was unlined, though his hair showed flecks of silver mixed liberally with the dark brown. It was the man's eyes that confused Watari most. They looked old for the face, the eyes of a man who had seen too much.

"You can see me? Do you know me?"

The man appeared not to hear, or not to be listening. He rummaged in his pockets before extracting a small leather bound journal. He flipped through a few pages, muttering to himself and then returned the book to his pocket.

"I see they let you keep your looks? I would have been pleased with something considerably more gruesome."

"Who are you?"

"The shinigami aspect is surprising, and it does complicate matters somewhat, but I am a man who thinks on his feet, Watari Yutaka-san."

Watari's eyes widened at the use of his full name, and he stepped closer to the speaker, eager to converse with someone who remembered him, no matter how strange.

"You do know me! What's your name? How did we know one another? Are we related?"

"You always did talk too much." The man made a few passes in the air and scattered dust from his pocket in a loose arc in front of Watari's grave. The scientist watched in fascination that slowly turned to shock as his limbs stiffened and he found he was unable to move.

"You don't remember me? How convenient for you. I guess I was too insignificant for the brilliant Watari Yutaka to recall. Well, I know you and that is all that is needed."

The man stepped forward and grasped Watari's chin in his hand, fingers digging in on either side of his mouth. The other hand pressed into his arm and caused a burning sensation. A cruel smirk crossed the man's face as the shinigami struggled against his invisible restraints.

Neither man noticed the shadow winging silently away from the grave towards the cover of nearby trees. The diminutive shade made its way past the stones towards the nearest temple archway, returning to report to its master. It had almost gained its objective when a pale hand flicked from behind a tree and caught the messenger inside a glowing orb.

"Not just yet, little one. I am interested to see what will happen, and I'm afraid your master will not indulge my curiosity."


	3. Chapter 3

Back again!A longish segment this time. I'll try to keep up with posting one section a day! Enjoy! Comments always appreciated!

* * *

By this time the stranger had finished his perusal of Watari's face. He loosened his grip with a chuckle and began making wide passes in the air with his arms, leaving shimmering trails of magic behind. His face transformed in the darkness, madness and obsession replacing the refinement of earlier. Then he began to speak.

"I always hated you. She never loved me, only you. I pleaded with her. You didn't even know she existed, so wrapped up in your work. She said she could never love someone who wasn't as beautiful as Watari-sensei. I became beautiful; still she would not love me. I thought it would end when you died. I was ecstatic! Finally you were gone! She would not have me even then, and you were dead. I couldn't get my revenge. So I studied, sensei. I found a way to bring you back, to make you suffer as I have suffered."

Watari twisted frantically, trying to free himself, but found he could not even return to his spirit form, much less transport. He was locked into his physical body. The man noticed his struggles and laughed, moving from gestures to incantations. A silvery cage made of magic began to appear around the shinigami and his grave. Watari found that he could move his limbs again, but when he approached the bars his captor spoke.

"I wouldn't if I were you. Those bars will suck your regenerative powers away. It was necessary for me to adjust the spell, since you have become a shinigami, and I might have overdone it."

"I'm sorry for what I might have done to you, but there must be some other way. Perhaps, if you explain it to me; I don't have any memories of my life."

"The time for explanations is gone, sensei. Your amnesia is of no concern to me, only my revenge." With this, the man began another long invocation. The areas between the bars began to fill, leaving a clear cube. Watari's protests silenced. He stared numbly out at his captor, fists clenched at his sides.

"I am sure your clever brain is wondering what I am doing, you were always thinking, after all. What happens during the O-bon festival? Answer: the souls of the dead return to visit their families. What does a shinigami do? Answer: brings souls to judgment. I'm certain that a few of these souls would like to pay a little visit to said shinigami. It will be painful for you, sensei, at least until you lose consciousness."

With a last flick of his wrist, the man released a flash of light into the air -- minutes passed, nothing happened. Just when Watari believed the spell a failure, a thin stream of what looked like shadows swirled toward him. They circled the cage at first, testing, looking for a way in, all of the souls he had brought to judgment, some willingly, others by force. The scientist whimpered involuntarily as the first soul found passage into his prison.

* * *

The silent observer in the trees gave a quiet bark of laughter. He held up the sphere to look at the shadow enclosed within.

"Sloppy, but seemingly effective, don't you think? Perhaps you should find your master now. It will amuse me to observe his reaction to this development."

Mechanical eye gleaming with anticipation, Muraki Kazutaka released the shade into the night sky.

* * *

Tatsumi pushed his unfinished paperwork across the table and leaned back in his chair. The clock on the mantle read 1:00 A.M. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

_I wonder how Watari is getting along. I hope he isn't too disappointed. Perhaps I should pay a visit to his grave._

The secretary had made up his mind to do just this, when his tracking shadow rushed through the open balcony door. It was difficult to get much information from such a small shade, but Tatsumi gathered that it had been delayed and he was needed on earth. Seconds later, the kagetsukai arrived at the small cemetery.

* * *

He was stunned to immobility by the spectacle greeting him. Watari was crumpled in a heap and trapped in some type of cage, recognizable only by the brief glimpses of golden hair visible through a cloud of what looked like shadows. Tatsumi made a summoning gesture, pulling shade from the surrounding area. Only when it failed to remove the darkness around his partner, did he notice the other occupants of the graveyard. A slight man in a dark suit was kneeling on the ground, his hand raised in a warding gesture. Facing him, white trench coat stirring in the faint breeze, was a man that caused Tatsumi Seiichirou to lose all composure.

"Muraki! What are you doing here? Release Watari-san immediately!" The shadow master drew back his arm, sending a wave of shadow towards the cage. The shades churned up earth on either side, but they could not penetrate the barrier. Tatsumi growled in frustration, sending another blast towards the man he knew must be responsible for his friend's condition.

Muraki lifted his hand and created a barricade around himself. He bowed graciously toward the infuriated shinigami.

"Ah, Tatsumi-san, so quick to judge. It was not I who trapped your colleague. This gentleman here takes the credit for that. I am merely here to observe." He turned to the man on the ground, a look of pity crossing his porcelain features. "I did warn you that shinigami travel in pairs. I'll be interested to see how you deal with a kagetsukai. Do you even know what they are?" The pity changed quickly to loathing as Muraki fended off the stranger's grasping hands.

Tatsumi stalked close to the pair, knocking the dark-haired man to the ground and pinning him with shadows. He stood over the quivering figure, a look of icy calm on his face. "Release him."

The man on the ground attempted unsuccessfully to crawl out of the shadows' grip on his body. He howled as he was flipped over and dragged across the gravel-covered ground to come to rest at the shadow master's feet.

"You get one opportunity to obey me before my shadows rip you to shreds. Do it. Now."

"I would take his advice if I were you. But then again, it might be entertaining if you made another escape attempt." The doctor adjusted the cuffs of his jacket and moved forward a pace. "Tatsumi-san, he's trapped your partner inside that box with the souls he brought to judgment." The anticipatory gleam in Muraki's eyes as he spoke brought a whimper from the man on the ground.

"Thank you for that piece of information, Muraki-sensei. I would very much appreciate it if you did not interfere."

"By all means, kill him. That is, if you want your partner to die slowly and in a great deal of pain." The silver haired man withdrew a few paces and calmly observed the reaction to his statement.

The shadows lifted enough for their captive to stand. The man stood facing Tatsumi trembling, beads of sweat forming along his brow. The shinigami pointed towards the cage and the stranger dispersed the barrier with a word and a gesture. The released souls swirled around the fallen man for a few seconds and then dispersed, uninterested in an insensible victim. The stranger collapsed and rolled his body into a ball, rocking slowly back and forth, muttering to himself. Tatsumi restrained him once again and rushed to his fallen colleague. Muraki followed indolently, pausing to study the shadows binding the sorcerer.

Tatsumi turned Watari gently. The younger man was still unconscious, eyes moving erratically behind closed lids. His breathing was rapid and he was warm to the touch. The older guardian was bending to lift him when Muraki cleared his throat discreetly.

"You may not want to do that. The barrier was not the only binding the human put on your little friend."

The emphasis on the last word was not lost on Tatsumi, but he refused to rise to the bait. "If you have something to say, by all means do go ahead."

"Always so polite -- that is what I admire about you, your ability to retain your breeding even in times of crisis. This puny sorcerer has sold his soul to some minor demon in exchange for revenge against Watari-san. If you try to take him back to Meifu, it will activate some form of unpleasantness. He will not survive, of course."

"Why should I believe you? You delayed my messenger. I could have stopped this before it happened, and you still haven't explained your presence." Tatsumi glared at him, the desire to send his shadows against Muraki evident in the set of his shoulders.

"Like calls to like, I suppose. I knew someone was performing a complicated spell, one motivated by deep hatred. It interested me. The fact that it involved your partner was coincidence; I could have stopped your shadow completely, after all."

Tatsumi turned his gaze back toward the bound stranger, frowning. He took a deep breath and tried to quell the churning in his stomach. He was about to break a thousand promises he had made to himself and only the inert form of Watari finally forced the question from his lips. "Can you break the spell?"

A person who did not know the nature of Muraki Kazutaka might have mistaken the pleased smile on his face as a willingness to do something good -- an angelic beaming to go with the ethereal beauty the man possessed. Tatsumi was not fooled. The price for Watari's safe recovery would be high. He only hoped he would be able to afford it.

"Are you asking for my help, Tatsumi-san? Does Enmacho not have people to deal with this? Oh, yes, shinigami aren't supposed to be on earth during O-bon. Your partner is breaking the rules, isn't he? And so are you. How sweet -- protecting your partner like this. Or perhaps...more than partner?" A moon-pale brow arched wickedly with the suggestion.

"I won't be baited Muraki. Can you break the spell or not?"

"Patience is often a virtue. I'll have to examine him. Move to the side, please."

Tatsumi grudgingly relinquished his place at his friend's side.

The doctor moved gracefully, kneeling and turning Watari's face toward him. His head lolled onto his shoulder, his tangled hair spilling haphazardly across the grass. Muraki shone a flashlight into the unconscious shinigami's eyes before speaking. "This one was with you in Kyoto, wasn't he? I should have paid closer attention. He is quite lovely. I can see why you want him -- worthy consolation prize, after having lost Tsuzuki-san to the boy."

"Quiet! I'll not have you insulting him. Keep your sordid comments to yourself."

Muraki chuckled richly and continued his examination. After running his hands down either side of Watari's throat he reached for the tie to the yukata, raising his head in response to Tatsumi's strangled cough.

"What do you think you are doing, Muraki?"

"Looking for the seal. It's a crude spell used in some western magics. The seal binds the spirit into a physical body. That's why he can't return to Meifu. Right now he isn't a spirit. Do you object?"

"Just be quick about it."

The robe fell open and Muraki deliberately took his time parting the folds of light material to expose Watari's pale flesh.

"My, my, what fine skin. Tell me, Tatsumi-san, what's it like to have this body pressed against you?" The doctor punctuated his remark by running his hands down Watari's exposed chest. When the shinigami did not answer, Muraki continued, "Or haven't you had that pleasure?" He laughed at Tatsumi's obvious discomfort. "Ah! Hit a nerve, have I?"

Tatsumi clamped his jaw tight, anger clouding his vision. He was aware of a flush on his cheeks; the doctor's insinuation was too close to his own desire. He wanted to be the one touching Watari's body in such an intimate fashion. He focused on his partner's face, reaching to smooth the hair away from the troubled brow. After a few brief moments, the doctor made a triumphant sound and drew Tatsumi's attention to the slender arm he held in his grip.

"Here it is. See the discoloration around the seal? This was amateur work, set in a hurry and with too much emotion. Disgusting."

"Can you remove it?" Tatsumi was uninterested in discussing the spell caster's technique. He wanted the foul thing off his partner so he could get him away from this place and back home, safe.

Muraki made a pass over the mark with one elegant hand and it was gone. No blemish was left to indicate that it had ever been there.

"That was too easy. Are you sure the seal is broken? Is this another of your tricks, Muraki?"

"Flashy magic is for peasants. See, he is already slipping back into spirit form."

It was true. Tatsumi could detect the faint shimmer surrounding Watari's body that indicated he was invisible to most of the living. Only those close to death, or familiar with its mysteries, like Muraki, could see him now. He let out a breath he hadn't remembered holding and gathered the prone man into his arms. He stood with his back to the doctor. Tightening his grip on Watari for courage, he opened his mouth to express gratitude to his mortal enemy.

"Don't thank me, Tatsumi-san. You've provided a service to me on this festival night. I was once again able to study a shinigami's powers. Thanks would only cheapen the experience." Muraki moved to exit the cemetery, pausing only when Tatsumi called out to him.

"The price, Muraki-sensei?" He could not believe that reparation wasn't required.

"I have already taken my compensation. I can't have amateurs running around. And after all, he did see a shinigami. Good evening, Tatsumi-san. Keep better watch over your lovely partner from now on. I may start to desire amber eyes instead of amethyst." With a shower of white feathers the doctor disappeared.

Tatsumi moved to where the stranger lay, cursing his inattention. The man's dark eyes stared sightlessly up at the starless sky. Unable to feel regret for the man's death, he called shadows to move the body closer to the temple, knowing that someone would care for the remains in the morning. The soul of the stranger could be dealt with tomorrow as well. His only concern was getting Watari back to Meifu. The events of the evening had brought Tsuzuki's words to the front his mind:_ Even tomorrow might be too late._


	4. Chapter 4

another installment. Things are starting to heat up a little! Thanks for all the encouragement!

* * *

Tatsumi arrived in his living room still carrying the comatose Watari. He had considered taking him to his own apartment, but realized he wasn't entirely sure where it was. Besides, he wanted to be certain Watari would wake without any complications; at least that's what he told himself as he carried him into his bedroom. He placed him gently on the bed, then moved around the room adjusting the shadows he used as a form of security system to recognize the new occupant. Satisfied, he grabbed a change of clothes and stepped into the bathroom for a quick shower.

He emerged to find his guest curled into a fetal position at the foot of the large bed. Watari's eyelids were twitching and his arm was positioned protectively about his head. Tatsumi tried to rouse him, again with no success. Frustrated, he went into the kitchen; hoping tea would calm his frayed nerves.

_What will I do if he doesn't wake soon...other than find a certain doctor and give him a close-up demonstration of Death by Shadow?_

Brows furrowed, he sat down at the table, stirring his tea. He mentally catalogued the multiple rules he had broken this evening, starting with his decision to let Watari go to earth and ending with the death of the strange human. This last infraction was not likely to go unnoticed. He sighed, trying to come up with a viable solution to the problem.

"**No! Please, I'm sorry. Stop it!**"

The shrill cries carried throughout the small house. Tatsumi ran to the bedroom. Watari was sitting rigidly in the center of the bed, hands held before him in supplication to his unseen tormentor. His wide eyes were unseeing and his entire body was shaking. Before Tatsumi could reach the bed, the younger shinigami had collapsed again, limbs flailing wildly.

Instinctively, Tatsumi moved to still him. Pinning the slender body with his own greater bulk, he crossed Watari's arms over his chest and clasped them at the wrists. With one arm he drew the other man close, narrowly avoiding a crack in the nose from his convulsions. Once he had a firm grip on him, he began to whisper softly, meaningless words of comfort like the kind used to quiet an infant. The tone of his voice was more important than the content.

"Shhh, you're safe now, here with me in Meifu. You can return to your lab tomorrow. I'm sure your birds have missed you. You haven't blown anything up for a while; perhaps you should try turning Terazuma into a woman."

Watari's fit stopped as abruptly as it had started. His body relaxed and his eyes fluttered shut. He took a few deep, shuddering breaths and then fell into a seemingly normal sleep, one hand fisted in his partner's pajama top.

Tatsumi sighed with relief and moved to lay him down on the bed. He was hindered by Watari's surprisingly strong grip on his pajama top. He gave up trying to extricate himself and lay back against the headboard, moving the golden head to rest underneath his chin. Watari turned into his neck, soft breath tickling. Tatsumi brought one hand up to smooth away the line that had formed between his friend's pale brows, brushing his fingertips along Watari's cheeks. Despite the disagreeable events leading to this moment, Tatsumi couldn't deny the happy lurch his heart gave having this man in his arms. With a last fond glance, he put out the light and dropped into slumber.

Watari woke with the early morning sun on his face. Before opening his eyes, he did a quick inventory of possible injuries that might await him. Finding that his limbs were restrained in some way, he prepared to face his apparent captor. Finally, summoning all of his courage, he slowly opened his eyes. His gaze focused on a partially bared torso, definitely male. He craned his neck and looked up into the sleeping face of his partner. Tatsumi had both arms locked firmly around him and sometime during the night their legs had become entangled.

_So that's why I can't move. Wait, why am I in Tatsumi's bed? How did we get here? I don't remember anything after that man put me in his magic box._

Watari shivered and snuggled closer, taking advantage of the warmth. He managed to free one arm, placing it across Tatsumi's chest and resting his head on his closed fist. He watched the older man for a time, smiling to himself, then brought his free hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers before reaching up to press the tips against Tatsumi's lips. He pulled away, lightly tracing their outline.

Tatsumi blinked suddenly and started at Watari's surprised squeak. He tried to jump out of bed, but finding his hands full he opted to blush and release the younger man instead, stammering out an apology.

"Excuse me, Watari-san. You were thrashing about in your sleep and this was the only way I knew to make you stop. I'm sorry." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, carefully looking at everything in the room except the person to whom he was speaking. Watari sat cross-legged, looking at his friend's rigid shoulders, and grinned at the man's obvious embarrassment.

"Well, you could have at least bought me dinner, Tatsumi, though I suppose my being unconscious and convulsing might have caused a scene at the restaurant. I guess I'll have to forgive you this once." He laughed out loud as his partner turned to stare at him, mouth gaping, trying to think of a suitable reply. Defeated, Tatsumi chose instead to retreat into the comfort of formality.

"I am glad to see you awake and able to make jokes, Watari-san. I assume you'll want a shower. I believe I can come up with a change of clothes, and while you are bathing, I'll fix us something to eat." He retrieved his glasses from the bedside table and turned to lead the way to the bath.

"Wait, Tatsumi, please. I'm sorry about the joke, really. I'm a little disoriented, and I'm not sure how to thank you for rescuing me. You did, didn't you?" Watari approached slowly, laying a hand on Tatsumi's arm to stop his exit. The older man smiled and covered it with his own.

"I arranged for you to return to Meifu safely. That is all."

Watari followed his partner into the small kitchen, sitting at the table while Tatsumi busied himself making tea. The room was done in creamy beige tones, and the scientist looked around eagerly, soaking up the cozy atmosphere. He accepted the steaming mug as it was offered and spooned in sugar before leaning back in his chair. He tucked one foot underneath him and watched as Tatsumi fixed his own cup.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened or do I guess? Or we could play charades." He grinned sheepishly at the blank look from across the table. "Sorry, nervous humor. Seriously, what did I get you into?"

Tatsumi took a sip of his tea. He sighed and ran a hand roughly through his chestnut hair. "If you insist on hearing it now, I think we should move to the sofa. It is a rather long tale."

The two men sat at either end of the long couch, a stark contrast to their previous intimacy. Tatsumi seemed to require the distance, and Watari was too wrapped in his own thoughts to protest.

He listened quietly as his partner went through the details of the evening in his usual efficient manner, neither embellishing his own participation nor leaving out painful revelations. Watari covered his mouth at the mention of Muraki, rising and crossing to the picture window. He leaned his head on the cool glass, seeking the courage to ask one question.

"Is that man dead, Tatsumi?"

There was hesitation in Tatsumi's voice. "Yes, he is."

A single tear made its way down Watari's cheek. "Did you kill him?"

"No, but my inattention allowed his death. I am sorry." Tatsumi looked away. He rolled his now empty mug in his hand.

He looked up when the mug was removed from his grasp. Watari folded down onto the couch beside him. Edging closer, he pushed his head up under Tatsumi's arm and wrapped slender arms around his neck. Tatsumi automatically returned the embrace, gathering him close.

"Never apologize for that again. You let me break the rules. You came when I needed you. You took aid from a man you hate with every fiber of your being to help me. I don't deserve what you have done for me. How could you think I would be angry with you?" Watari raised his head to meet his friend's eyes. He placed one hand on either side of his face and placed a light kiss on his forehead, smiling as Tatsumi's eyes widened in shock. He then released him, shaking his head as he regained his feet. "Think I'll have that shower now."

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Sorry for the evil cliffie! more tomorrow!


	5. Chapter 5

Welcome back! Smut ahead and possibly some OOCness but since yami never gets smutty who knows what's in character, right! Enjoy!

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Tatsumi listened to the water running as he scrounged for something for his guest to wear. He had already forbidden him to go home, afraid that if he stepped outside the wards surrounding the house, news of their return would filter to the wrong ears. He was fully prepared to face his judgment, just not before he had one last conversation with Watari.

He cursed the laundry that washed his clothes for their tardiness and he cursed the drawers for being empty. He had suits and dress shirts, but his supply of casual wear was nearly nonexistent. He located a light silk robe in the back of one closet and threw it on the bed next to a pair of shorts and an old T-shirt. It would have to do. He would figure out what to use for work clothes later.

Watari stepped out of the bedroom toweling his hair. The robe was too large and kept slipping off one shoulder. He hadn't put on the T-shirt and the effect was causing Tatsumi some distress. He found his eyes straying repeatedly to exposed flesh. Watari caught him staring and covered himself with a laugh, only to forget and let the robe slip a few minutes later.

Tatsumi tried to distract himself with work. He managed to get through the notes for Monday's staff meeting and was just starting the budget analysis when Watari entered his office and planted himself in a nearby chair.

"This is silly, Tatsumi. If the man is dead, he'll have told everyone who killed him by now. My staying here will only cause more trouble for you." He held up a long-fingered hand to quell the protest forming on his friend's lips. "No, don't argue. I plan on taking responsibility for this. You shouldn't be punished for saving my ass."

"Watari-san, you can't know what you are saying. I allowed you to go to earth last night. Had I been fulfilling my duties as your supervisor, none of this would have happened. Stay here until I decide what to do."

"But I have no clothes. I need to feed my birds. What about 003? She's probably worried by now. And where will I…um…sleep?" The last question caused both men to find the floor very absorbing.

"I'll find you something to wear. Your birds will be fine. 003 can look after herself. You can have my bed. The sofa pulls out and I have a futon in the closet. No more arguments. Now I have work to do."

"Why bother? You and I will not be around once Enma finishes with us."

Tatsumi swiveled his chair around. He stared at him until Watari dropped his head, mumbled a quick apology and stood to leave, not making eye contact.

Tatsumi lurched to his feet, grabbed Watari's wrist and pulled him into the living room. He shoved the Watari onto the couch and sat down next to him. Watari backed into the corner of the sofa, his body turning towards his partner. The robe had fallen open again and before he could pull it closed, Tatsumi raised his hand to trace the outline of the exposed collarbone with a finger.

"Eh, Tatsumi?"

"Shhh." He placed a hand over the Watari's mouth to silence him. "I have something I want to say, if indeed we won't be around as you proclaim." Tatsumi glanced away, breathing labored. Watari's palm caressed his cheek, and he let his head turn toward him again.

Watari swallowed hard before speaking. "Say what you want, Tatsumi. I'll listen."

"You and I have worked together for several years. We've been colleagues, then partners, and I would like to think, even friends." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "However, if we are going to be parted, for whatever reason, I want you to know that recently I have been having more than strictly friendly thoughts toward you. I care for you a great deal, and I am sorry if my feelings are unwelcome, but a friend told me that even tomorrow could be too late and -- "

Tatsumi was unable to finish this last sentence as Watari pressed lips firmly to his and a tongue found its way into his surprised mouth. Tatsumi responded eagerly, his hands trailed up over Watari's shoulders and through the still damp hair. He pressed the man down into the cushions and moved to the tender spot at the base of his throat. Tracing the delicate skin with his tongue, he was encouraged by nimble fingers carding softly through his hair. He pulled back a moment to catch his breath, and when he leaned down again to resume his exploration, he was shocked to hear a choked sob muffled by the expanse of pale hair.

He quickly reached out a shaking hand to brush the strands away from Watari's face, concern filling his voice. "Watari-san? Are you all right? If I'm moving too fast just tell me." Tatsumi slid his arms beneath the slim body and pulled him close, rocking him gently and stroking his back in soothing circles.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Watari's arms slipped around his waist and he leaned into the embrace, taking shuddering breaths as he tried to calm himself enough to speak. One last sob and the words came in a flood of suppressed emotion. "I'm frightened, Tatsumi. I've wanted this for longer than you can imagine and now because of my selfishness it could end before we even truly get started. We can't stay here forever. Eventually we'll have to go to the office. They'll be wondering why you didn't come in today. You always work on Saturday."

Tatsumi tightened his hold. He tilted the young face up and brushed tears from wide, amber eyes, his fingers lingering along the delicate planes of his jaw. "I'm not going to tell you everything will be fine. I won't lie to you. A human is dead. We both disregarded rules set for the festival. But consider this, that man knew you when you were alive, right?"

"Yes, he said he hated me then." Watari sighed and closed his eyes.

"That would put him in his early fifties. He didn't look much older than me, despite the grey hair. Muraki said the man had made a bargain with a demon."

Watari clutched the fabric of Tatsumi's shirt, his body slowly relaxing against his broad chest. "So, what you are saying is that he could have been prolonging his life unnaturally?

"Possibly. We won't know for sure until Monday." Tatsumi kissed the top of the fair head, giving him another gentle squeeze. He was rewarded by a small, embarrassed laugh.

"Boy, I can sure ruin a mood."

"Never mind. You're here; that's enough."

"Maybe for you, but I have years worth of daydreams to make into reality."

Watari leaned back from the embrace and started undoing the buttons on Tatsumi's shirt in a business-like manner. The shadow master chuckled when he became impatient with the process and ripped the last few buttons free. The garment landed on the floor in a heap as the younger man ran his fingers across ridges of muscle, eliciting goose bumps and a soft moan.

"Maybe we should move to the bedroom." Watari grinned slyly up through the curtain of his hair, running both hands across Tatsumi's bared chest. "Or were you still planning to sleep on the couch?"

The bedroom was dark, shadows keeping the morning sunlight at bay. The shades swirled invitingly, reaching tendrils out to touch the men as they entered the room.

Watari found himself tugged back against Tatsumi's chest, an arm encircling his waist from behind. Tatasumi drew Watari's heavy mane of hair over one shoulder and proceeded to lathe the naked skin of his neck with his tongue. Watari's knees buckled under the treatment and he leaned heavily on his partner for balance. He steadied himself and inched towards the bed drawing Tatsumi behind him.

He turned gracefully to face Tatsumi, still within the circle of his arms. Tatsumi trailed his fingers along the opening of his robe until he reached the knot binding it to his body. With a yank it came free and Watari arched his back, dropping the cloth and exposing more skin to be touched.

Tatsumi murmured appreciatively and ran his hands down the lithely muscled form, skimming his fingers just beneath the waistband of the borrowed shorts.

"You really are beautiful, Watari-san. I can't believe it took me so long to notice."

Watari laughed wryly as the shorts were gently pushed from his hips. He did likewise to Tatsumi's pajama bottoms before answering, "Neither can I." Then he drew the Tatsumi close for a long thorough kiss, backing down onto the bed and drawing him with him.

Despite the reassurances given earlier, there was an almost desperate quality to their lovemaking. Tatsumi held his lover close, his hands caressing every inch of the willing form. Even the spicy scent of the oil he worked tenderly into the velvet skin seemed sharply etched into his memory. Watari whispered into his ear, the quiet voice sparking a surge of need deep within him. Watari had one hand splayed across his spine and the other dug into the curve of his hip, directing their motion. Tatsumi rose up on one arm, palm planted next to Watari's golden head. He smiled as the amber eyes opened and focused on his face.

Watari pushed his lower lip into a pout and grasped Tatsumi's shoulder, wriggling in disappointment from the loss of direct contact with his partner's body. Tatsumi trailed fingers down his side, tickling and causing him to arch up from the bed. He kissed the soft mouth, lips now swollen from the intensity of earlier, and nipped playfully at Watari's chin before resuming the gentle gliding of his hips. His hand moved down to stroke in time with his own progress. Responding eagerly, Watari's hand moved up to fist in the hair at the nape of his lover's neck. HIs breathing came in rapid gasps and his eyes closed as Tasumi's thrusting became more persistent.

With one last rocking motion Watari's head snapped back and he groaned out his release, clutching his partner, kneading the muscles of his thighs with strong fingers. Finding his own completion a moment later, Tatsumi gathered the trembling man into his arms. He tucked him close and listened to the rapid sound of his heart, a perfect match to his own. He drifted off to sleep, his lover wrapped in his arms for the second time, their bodies contentedly entwined.


	6. Chapter 6

here's the last installment. I hope you enjoyed the story! Thanks again for all the great reviews.

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Monday morning found Watari sitting nervously outside the ancient court building of Enmacho. Tatsumi was the first to be called to answer for their misdoings, and he was waiting to hear what punishment would be dealt to his partner.

The summons for both of them had been waiting outside Tatsumi's door when they stepped from his house, a subtle reminder that nothing went unnoticed in Meifu. Tatsumi had glared at the subpoena before handing it to Watari. "We might as well stop by your place before going in. You'll look more professional in your own clothes." He had smiled down at him, giving his arm a reassuring pat.

Watari stood now and began pacing in front of the engraved doors. He reached up to ruffle the feathers of the little owl on his shoulder. 003 had given him a severe scolding on his return to the lab that morning and now the bird wouldn't be parted from him even for a minute. Sensing her master's distress, she hooted encouragingly, tapping his cheek with a tiny wing. Watari lifted her and sat down again with her in his lap. He distracted himself for a time by tickling her tummy and talking to her.

The heavy doors swung open, startling 003 and sending her aloft, hooting around Watari's head. He stood up, straightening his jacket and brushing loose feathers from his lap. The older man stepping through the door gave Watari a fatherly smile.

"Watari-san, don't look so glum. It all worked out in the end. The five generals aren't eager to see you go, so from now on stay in Meifu during O-bon, hmm?" Kachoe wandered off down the hall, sketching a wave as he went.

Watari shook himself then yelled after him, "Wait, Kachoe, what about Tatsumi?" His shout echoed down the corridor, but the elder shinigami appeared not to hear. He was about to give chase when a hand on his shoulder stopped his forward momentum. He swung around to see his partner, anxiety surging. "Tatsumi! What did they say?"

"I have been given a week's time to reflect on my misdeeds. A harsher punishment was planned until it was revealed that the man's name had turned up on the _kiseki _the same evening he made contact with you."

"So he was supposed to die then."

"The Earl feels that the man would not have been able to see you otherwise. His spell was inadequate for summoning a shinigami."

"What about me? I'm going to be punished too, aren't I?" Watari raised an accusing finger to tap his lover's forehead. "You didn't take all the blame, did you?" Tatsumi rested his palm on his shoulder, squeezing slightly, the only remotely personal gesture he had made since their arrival at the office. Watari looked up into his deep blue eyes, absorbing the calm radiating from their depths. "Tell me."

"Your punishment is this. You will not accompany the man to his judgment as is customary when someone from your district dies. You will not have the opportunity to question him about your shared past. Ignorance is your punishment. I am sorry."

Watari shrugged off the hand on his shoulder and stalked to the window. He smacked his fist against the pane. Tatsumi followed to slip a comforting arm around his shoulders. Watari's face found its way to the curve of his neck and he inhaled deeply, drinking in Tatsumi's cologne. His own nature reasserted itself quickly and he responded to the public display of affection with a laugh that was only slightly strained.

"Watch it, people will think you like me or something." He grinned wickedly and placed a kiss where the crisp white business shirt met Tatsumi's neck. His partner colored deeply, moving away and adjusting his tie.

"People would be correct." He raised an eyebrow and twirled the end of Watari's thick braid around his finger. Tatsumi turned and strolled down the hall towards the Shokan Division's offices, the younger shinigami following close behind.

"What are you going to do without work for a whole week?" Watari came skidding to a halt as Tatsumi turned to face him, a serious expression on his handsome face.

"I will be reflecting on my misdeeds." He moved in close to the younger man, his breath tickling his ear. Watari's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed as Tatsumi outlined his interpretation of "misdeeds" and exactly how he planned to reflect upon them.


End file.
